


The Annual Visit

by PineTrain



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Birthday, F/M, Land of the Dead, Past Character Death, pinecest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 08:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13003704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineTrain/pseuds/PineTrain





	The Annual Visit

The sand crunches moistly under Dipper's foot as he steps off the boat. An instinctive shiver rises through him, but he's familiar enough with it that it doesn't bother him. Instead, he reaches into his pocket, turns back to the ferryman, and tosses him the bag he's retrieved.

“Blue raspberry!” he says with a smile.

The ferryman nods slowly and slips the bag of suckers into his robe before pressing his pole into the water to push the boat away into the murky, black river. Dipper's smile fades as he watches the erstwhile companion disappear in the dim light. He's only about 70% sure the ferryman actually likes suckers, and he can't even remember what it was that made him think that in the first place. It's an indirect reminder of how many times he's come here.

He heads up the beach to find the sole path in an endless field of dying grass. Pallid light with no source illuminates it, a hint to all that they should not wander lest they find a terrible fate. It's all quite intimidating, or it was the first time Dipper came here. Now it's somewhat quaint, though he does understand why they do it. Horror movies are never quite as scary the second time you watch them, and the Land of Dead isn't exactly a place you're supposed to visit a second time.

After walking for a few hours, or days, or minutes (it's always different, even though he doesn't notice until later), Dipper finds himself at the entrance to a castle. The doors are made of harsh, black iron and rippled with memories painful, joyous and everything in-between. Their very size, as enormous as they are, is but a modicum of the infinite emotions they have gathered from all who pass through them. Dipper gives a swift kick and they fly open.

Again, the doors are merely a thing intimidating on first glance, but nothing on the second. It's almost comical coming here at this point. Nothing more than a haunted house with a fantastic effects budget.

“Mason! We've been expecting you! Come in, come in!”

“Uh! I, er, okay?”

Dipper follows the Lord of the Dead after his first surprise of the expedition. They were familiar to each other, but Dipper had never met him at the front door. He expected a servant or just a long empty hallway to the throne room, but he's being welcomed at the door by one of his hosts in person.

“Surprised, hm?” the Lord of the Dead asks, turning the empty eyes of his skull to look back at Dipper as they walk. “At this point I think you deserve a more personal touch than our other visitors. How many times have you made this journey?”

Dipper doesn't answer. He knows it's merely a polite question the Lord already knows the answer to. He supposes he should feel honored to be so recognized, but it's not an honor he's Happy to receive.

“Our annual friend, my love,” the Lord of the Dead introduces him when they enter the throne room. Dipper stops halfway while he continues up to take his place by his wife. He gives a short bow, then kneels.

“Ah, Mason, Our good friend amongst the living,” the Lady of the Dead’s voice is chilling and hoarse, but Dipper senses the affection hidden deep inside it. “Another year passed without joining us properly. Congratulations.”

Her bones clack roughly as she claps. Dipper is used to her humor. It's not malicious, just sarcastic and morbid, which he can hardly blame her for considering her position.

“What game this year?” he asks pointedly.

“Hmph!” the Lady grunts and turns to her Lord. “He's gotten so impudent over the years!”

The Lord reaches over and lays his hand over his Lady’s, “Dear…”

“Yes, yes,” she says with a sigh, turning back to Dipper. “Our husband has argued in your favor, Mason. After so many visits, and so many victories, We will acknowledge your adamant determination to perform your yearly visit. You have clearly demonstrated that you mean no harm to the natural order of Our realm and made conscious efforts to befriend Our subjects and respect the customs of the Dead. And so, We will no longer require you to complete a game to achieve your desire.”

Dipper looks up at her and blinks, unsure of how to react. She doesn't look terribly happy, but he notices the Lord of the Dead sneakily shoot him a thumbs up. Apparently he's somehow managed to gain favor with the consort of the liege of this land, and that isn't something he's about to question. He thanks them and makes extra sure to perform every honor as he leaves the throne room.

A servant meets him outside and takes him to the visiting room. It's small and intimate, just two red couches on a red carpet with a fireplace in the wall. It's normally kind of a shithole with everything dirty since it's used so rarely, but today it's obviously been recently cleaned. Dipper supposes that's the Lord's doing.

“Dipper!”

The youthful girl's voice hits his ears a tenth of a second before her body hits his. After catching his balance, Dipper turns and wraps his arms around his sister. She's smaller than him, something that still reminds him of the days that wasn't true.

“Hey, Mabes, how've you been?”

“Oh, you know, dead and all,” she laughs nonchalantly. “Not a whole lot to say there. How are you doing though!?”

Dipper gives a small smile, “Alright, I guess. My last book didn't do too great with the critics, so that was a bit of a blow to my self-esteem…”

“Say whaaa!? They don't know what they're talking about!”

“How do you know? You haven't read it.”

Mabel rolls her eyes and holds out her hand with a grabby motion. Dipper laughs quietly, then fishes out a copy of his book from his bag and hands it to her.

“Oh, you got that one artist again!” she says excitedly as she examines the cover. “Oh she's the best! Or was it-?”

“He. Yeah, he agreed to do the art. I hope it doesn't affect him too bad. Y’know, the fact that the book got panned…”

“Is he cute?”

Dipper frowns, “Mabel, you're dead. And he's too old for you anyways.”

“Pthhhhttthhbb,” Mabel raspberries defiantly. “I’m the same age as you! Just because I look like I haven't gotten older doesn't mean I haven't grown up!”

Dipper glances away. It doesn't hurt to acknowledge she's dead anymore, but that doesn't mean he likes it. She looks just like she did when they were 15. The Dead can pick whatever appearance they had over the course of their life and unfortunately that's her oldest option.

“Besides,” she continues, “I didn't mean for me. Do you think he's cute?”

“I'm not gay, Mabel…”

“I know that, but maybe you found out you're bi? Or are there any girls you've run into that you like?”

“You sound like mom.”

“Yeah, except she's not telling you to get over a dead girlfriend when she asks it.”

Dipper feels tears sting his eyes and squints them closed. “You weren't my girlfriend. You’re my sister.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you asked me to be. And I told you yes. Well, I told you, uh, after… And no, before you say it since you always say it, it's not because you confessed that I died. But seriously, the point is that you have to move on! If you think that guy was too old for me, then you're too old for me too!”

“You just said you've grown up.”

Mabel frowns, reaches over, and flicks his nose. “Stop being contrary just to be contrary.”

Dipper smiles and nods. He knows she's right and he has moved on. At least, he's pretty sure he has. He doesn't want her like he used to, but he still misses her constantly. It's normal to miss a sibling, though, so the question is if he misses her as a sister or something more.

As Dipper sits here, watching her pout in frustration at what he's said, he wonders if he'll ever know the answer. She might be older in mind, but she still has that 15 year old body, a permanent reminder that his feelings, and hers, are something of the past. Something that should be left behind. 

He prefers not to think on it, not to wonder why exactly he makes this arduous trip once a year. It's nice enough just to chat with her about his various experiences in the world of the living and learn who's she's met in the Land of the Dead. It's a familiar, warm feeling, not simply because he's been doing it for years, but because it's almost like things were before it all happened.

That's probably why he hasn't truly moved on like Mabel wants him to. As much as he knows he needs to do it, to leave it all behind, he can't. Because he knows that he can see her like this once a year. She knows it, too. Maybe that's the real reason.

The Dead pass on once they've finally accepted their fate. Many remain out of fear of what they pass on too, since no one comes back. Not Mabel, though, she's unafraid of what will come. She's waiting for him. She won't say it, but he can tell. Whether she's waiting for him as a missed sibling or something more he's less certain about.

It doesn't really matter in the end, though. Regardless of how things went when they were alive together, regardless how things could’ve been if she hadn't died, and regardless of how things have been since then, Dipper knows two things to be indisputably true: They came into existence together, and they will leave it together.

A sad thought, or maybe a happy one. Either way, not the type of thing to think about during his one chance to be with her this year. He reaches over to take her hands in his and give them an affectionate squeeze. She squeezes back with a smile.

“Happy birthday, Mabes.”

“Happy birthday, Dip.”


End file.
